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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255007">Battle Ready</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CmonCmon/pseuds/CmonCmon'>CmonCmon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Raising Warriors [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>99 is the Best Vod, Clone Mom and Clone Dad, F/M, Healthy Adult Conversation, Love Confessions, Rancor Feels, Soft Wars, Sparring, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars, Vod'ikaade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:09:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CmonCmon/pseuds/CmonCmon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Colt prepares Rancor for the most challenging mission of their lives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Colt (Star Wars)/Shaak Ti, Colt/Shaak Ti</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Raising Warriors [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Open Source Soft Wars</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Battle Ready</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/gifts">Project0506</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/gifts">Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Deep into the Soft Wars timeline now.... Go read <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775">Soft Wars</a> if you haven't found it yet. So many thanks to Projie for this universe to play in.</p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/works">PrimaryBufferPanel</a> was a huge help with this one, but I can't stop tinkering with it, so any mistakes are all mine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Colt hit the mat with a stifled grunt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t have been more than the usual thud of impact, but the bruise on his hip was still hot and dark from his early morning sparring session with Alpha-6. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was back on his feet and reset before 17 could tell him to hit the showers, or worse, demand to check him for injury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been fast enough. They clashed again, faster and harder than he sparred with 6. Fists and elbows and knees and feet. Pounding, as quick as he could think to block, counter, strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt good. Intuitive. Right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could do this. Be good at this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was. He hung in long enough he could see 17 reevaluate, revise. Colt rarely won, but he didn’t spar with an Alpha to win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>17 pushed him, the blows faster, feints and misdirections, the percussion of the strikes enough to fill Colt’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The throw that got him was so quick, so precise, Colt never saw it. He was airborne before he could counter, and on the mat before he could offset the momentum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t breathe. The impact stole his air, left him gaping, chest burning as he struggled under the pressure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt pushed aside the memories of red and pain, gasping humid air in sips as he remembered how breathing worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forced himself back on his feet. Forced himself to square back up despite the reflexive sting in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had only been a moment. It felt like a lifetime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt reset himself only to see 17 scowling. “Haven’t you got somewhere else to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His day was packed to the minute. Had been for weeks. And it still wasn’t enough. The sweat was stubbornly cooling on his skin, sending shivers. It had nothing to do with the phantom pain searing his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt glanced at the chrono before shaking his head. “Twelve minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt rolled his shoulder and shifted his weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d already been at it for more than half an hour, and between his daily pre-dawn with 6 and his daily afternoon with 17, there was more bruised-blue under his blacks than brown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha smirked. “Settle your karking boots, trooper. You’re done for the day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wanna-be ARCs hanging around for you to impress so you’ll quit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wiped the smile off his face, but didn’t get 17 to fall back into a sparring form. “Showers. Maybe the cold water will help you get your head on straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, a few more rounds of narrowing his focus to the next step and the next strike might do that. The showers only gave him four and a half minutes of near-silence to spin out every possible angle he might have missed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Colt might be stupid enough to bait an Alpha, he could see the look 17 was giving him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obstinate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pitying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The showers weren’t a suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for taking the time.” Colt tried to make it sound sincere. If 17 pulled out of the extra training, Colt would have to find another way to quiet his thoughts off for a few precious minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colt, just…” 17 grumbled under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not need to hear one more person tell him to “hang on”. It wasn’t a question of hanging on anymore. Now, all that was left was to execute the plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>the plan. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one he had spent months on, the one his command staff had lost countless hours of sleep over. The single most challenging op Rancor had ever run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The most dangerous they’d ever run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt threw himself under the icy shower spray and focused on the sting of his bruises instead of the millions of defenseless little brothers who would suffer if there was one angle overlooked, one fact he missed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I late, Commander?” Shaak’s tone was warm, familiar, as she joined Colt at the holotable in the command meeting room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt glanced away from Ponds, hands forming </span>
  <em>
    <span>caution</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the edge of the holotable as he met her eyes. “No sir. Ponds and I were going through some future trooper requests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Ti,” Ponds greeted cheerfully, “Master Windu will be along in…” he made a show of checking the chrono. “A quarter hour at least. He’s been cornered by Master Mundi for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>discussion</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I could attempt a rescue, but I am not sure it’s worth the risk of us both being entangled, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt was careful to never forget just how effectively Ponds could hide his intentions under sweetness and fluff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, there is more than enough time for a cup of tea, if you find yourself lacking one. Kamino is cold this time of the year, I remember well.” Ponds rubbed at his arms, like he could still feel the chill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were still wrangling venators within range to time transport arrivals, and a few more minutes to sort those details under the guise of shipping shinys wouldn’t hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt could see the slow shifting in Ponds’ hands but Colt couldn’t risk further discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifted back from his position on the edge of the table, his hands coming to rest on his belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No sign</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his fingers formed discreetly. Shaak had only ever shared a handful of words in sign with him, but Colt would never take that as an assumption she didn’t know more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ponds’ eyes went wide, jaw dropping in a way that would be comical in some other circumstance. His blue-toned projection looked from Colt to Shaak and back in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She still didn’t know. It wasn’t safe yet.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Colt was not having this discussion again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go get your Jedi, Ponds,” Colt growled, sick of seeing that look on his brothers’ faces. Ponds looked ready to argue, and not about where General Windu had run off to.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt would tell her, but he’d do it when he was ready. When it was safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how much the words weighed on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak rested a hand on his arm, obviously surprised by his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a busy day, sir.” Colt didn’t apologize. Wouldn’t apologize They had a full schedule of meetings, and that was only the start of his work. He’d been at it for hours, and there would be so many more grueling hours ahead of him, all of them exacting. Every outcome unforgiving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have had many busy days as of late.” Shaak’s voice had gone soft, private despite the empty blue light on the open holocall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a war to fight, sir.” The words came out grim, muted. Colt would have faked a smile, but he couldn’t shape it. They hadn’t spent more than spare minutes together in weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt was running out of days in her company, and he couldn’t even spend the few remaining with her. The unfairness ate at him, even if he knew it was nothing compared to the struggles of his brothers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifted closer, rested a hand over hers on the edge of the holotable. Colt had been working long days, and he knew he couldn’t prioritize spending time with Shaak over all the last-minute details that needed to be settled. “I could come by later. Tonight. It might be late, but I’m sure we have some reports to discuss?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak smiled like it was. “I will keep my schedule free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That man.” Mace Windu huffed as he appeared on the holocall. “Sometimes I think I’d rather be stuck on the Outer Rim myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got a laugh out of Shaak, and Colt filed the sound away with all the other perfect moments he never wanted to forget when they left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks to me like you’re overdue for nap time.” 99 had one ik’aad wrapped around his leg, and another on his back with arms hugged securely around his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like you’re already busy taking care of your younger brothers. Save your energy for them.” Colt must have missed latemeal again, but it was better he do one last set of checks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Last checks.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Colt knew that was a lie. He’d do the same run through tomorrow. He’d do it every day until that tsunami warning sounded. Until ‘Alor called them home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hammer was going through the packing order with Nicks and Scratches. Blitz was finishing the loading schedules. Havoc was sharing well-placed whispers and reviewing any updates on the security protocols.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Young ones get cranky when they are tired, or hungry.” The teasing didn’t totally cover the concern, and Colt’s shoulders sank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost done for the day,” Colt promised as two ik’aad threw themselves at his shins. They were still very cheerfully shrieking ‘buir’ when they saw him, but maybe that wouldn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scooped one up around the middle, and put the other on his shoulders. It was easier with the ik’aade, easier to remember why he was willing to risk the lives of millions of his brothers. If the cadets, ik’aade, and brothers-who-weren’t-yet could grow up free to be more than the tools of war for the Republic, the risks were worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got the Alphas worried about you.” 99 swung the ik’aad off his shoulders and onto the padded mats as he started calling to his brothers to kick the ball his way. The one on his leg followed with a squawk. “Two of them came to find me just today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know they like to worry.” Colt wasn’t going to have this conversation. He couldn’t think about it, couldn’t worry about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlike them, I know you are not sparring four times a day because you have taken a liking to the taste of sweaty mats.” 99 had the nerve to laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half of those spars he won, the ones with his Rancor men and teaching the fifth cycle. Colt sighed. “Vod, enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this, Colt.” 99 rested a hand on Colt’s arm before reaching up to wave his head closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went along with it because he knew 99 didn’t have the strength or mobility to pull him in. Colt rested his forehead against 99’s and held him close. If there was a brother who was more willing to care for his vode than 99, Colt had never met him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pressure was back, burning his lung, aching through his chest. It engulfed any comfort he could have had from the touch, drowned out the reassurance and support. He was worn too thin, pushed too far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt pulled back, turning away from 99 to scan the room for anything to focus his attention, to pull back his thoughts to the present. The ik’aade were still running and talking and playing like there was no war raging. Like they hadn’t survived the Battle of Kamino by inches. Like Colt wouldn’t be risking their lives yet again by loading them on ships with the hopes that they make it across the galaxy without being grounded or shot down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You clever little cogs, that’s not how we play ball.” 99 was off to catch a pair of ik’aade who were taking a running head start to roll over one of the squishy balls made with extra blacks and stuffed with vod-only-knew-what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure know what you’re doing in here?” Colt ignored the cold sweat, fought for a teasing tone. The ik’aade were almost cadet-sized now. Sixty-four of them were a lot for any vod. “You’ll have Rancor men with you.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>when we leave.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got all the help I need, Colt.” He caught one of the littles around the middle, dragging him back to his feet as he giggled the whole way. “Finish your night, buir. I need to get these rascals packed off to bed.” 99 clapped his hands and the ik’aade reluctantly began packing up their playthings. They would clear the mats for bedtime, wash up, and then pile under blankets with 99 for the night. Colt had never asked the vod to take over bedtime duty, but he couldn’t have asked for a better brother to sleep beside them at night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comm if you need me. Any time.” Colt held 99’s gaze. “I mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>99 nodded, lips quirked between a smile and a frown. “Unfortunately, I know you mean it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so late it was pushing early. Colt had walked from one end of the city to the other, finished a long holocall with Cody supposedly about GAR regulations, while battlesign flew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders ached. His back ached. His bruises ached. His karking feet ached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt checked his chrono, too late to look in on Havoc and Blitz. He could catch them before firstmeal, which would be soon enough. Probably. Colt hesitated at the door of his quarters and debated going back to check on his men. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let them sleep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone karking should.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His day was finally done, the last priority off the list that had kept him going since the pre-dawn hours. Colt let himself into his rooms, pulling off his gear and racking it on autopilot. His mind was a haze of formless worry and fatigue. He had done everything he needed to do for the day. Maybe he could rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His bedtime routine was mindless motion, necessary because structure was the only thing keeping him sane. The desk lamp gave the room a weak light, casting long shadows to the dark corners of his bunk. He pulled on fresh bottom blacks and eased his sore, bruised body down into his bunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And lay there. Like he had most nights lately, exhausted but unable to turn his mind off. No matter how hard he pushed himself during the days, the doubts found him in the dark. Colt punched his pillow like it would somehow make it less flat, and focused on his breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slow, steady in, feeling the air expand his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hold, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Long, slow out, ribs flexing on the exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to clear a small corner of his consciousness for peace and comfort. He tried to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The intersection of the two corridors offered absolutely no cover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clankers’ steps rang through, and in any moment, Colt’s position would be revealed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cody and Rex had gone to protect the cadets and Colt didn’t need to fight General Grievous and win, he just needed to survive long enough for the others to get the job done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checked the empty corridor across from him like reinforcements would materialize, and when they didn’t Colt made peace with what would happen next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d take out as many of the B2s as he could, hope the blasterfire gets Grievous' attention long enough to engage. Even a minute would help, would buy his brothers time to save the cadets. This was what he was made for after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any clone would die for his mission.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Colt would willingly die for his brothers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swung out from his cover, DC-15s in his hands for the best chance to stop the clankers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two shots squeezed off before the durasteel grip closed on his throat, pulling him off his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands moved to pry the grip off, but there were no hands, just the instinctive panic of not being able to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw her, saw the way she dangled him in front of his enemies like prey. Colt would die for his brothers but he didn’t want it to happen like this. His hands were still scrabbling as she pitched him against the wall. Both Ventress and Grievous would be too much for Cody and Rex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt had failed. He couldn’t breathe. He’d never protect his brothers, never tell Shaak how he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ventress lit her lightsaber, but Colt couldn’t do more than widen his eyes because he still couldn’t breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t. He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The searing, burning pain flared in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt her. Felt Shaak in his mind. Felt peace and warmth and love, and Colt woke, in his bunk, gasping breath into burning lungs, for the third time that week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Shaak’s fingers pressed to his temple, thumb methodically smoothing over his cheekbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt jerked away from her touch instinctively. Not because he didn’t want it - he did, desperately - but because of the panic racing through his mind and the trembling still rattling him head to toe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak didn’t need to see him like that, to feel that from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, please.” His voice was cracked and ragged like Ventress really had him in her grip moments before. “Don’t. You… shouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes moved over him in the dim light. Concerned. Pitying. Apologetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to escape that gaze. Hide his weakness from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she heard that wish. Shaak moved to push herself off the corner of the mattress where she was perched. “I knocked, Colt. I am sorry. I should not have assumed I was welcome--” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no….</span>
  </em>
  <span> That wasn’t it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand shot out, gripped her arm. The only thing worse than having her in his head when he was like this was not having her at all, having her believe he didn’t want her. “I’m sorry. Please. Stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak hesitated for too long and Colt loosened his hold. She should leave. She should go back to her own rooms, and he should get himself under control and go fall apart with his brothers like he ought to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which side?” Shaak’s voice was calm, deliberate. She thought he was on the verge of crisis. Maybe Colt couldn’t blame her for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt wasn’t. He could get himself under control. He could prove that, as soon as he caught his breath and the shaking stopped. “Side?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of the bunk. You usually prefer me on the wall side but if you…” She trailed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If he needed it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wall, please.” Colt’s throat was still too dry, but his breathing was closer to normal. He would be fine. He just didn’t want to be alone. Uncountable brothers were depending on him, and the weight of that responsibility was crushing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak slipped over him, around him. Her presence was a balm, without anything more than proximity. Her smell was comfort and warmth and love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed herself flat to the wall, leaving spare inches of scratchy GAR bedding between them. The inches were too much space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt dragged her in close, half sprawled on his chest, the best way to fit two bodies in one narrow bunk. Shaak leaned in, pressing a kiss over the burn scar on his chest. Clearly, she’d seen enough to know what he’d been dreaming of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you have avoided coming to my rooms?” The question was a breath against the muscle of his shoulder. “Nightmares?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt buried his face between her montrals. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He had promised to go to her rooms.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That was why she’d come looking for him, Colt realized with the jolt of fresh adrenaline at a task forgotten. How could he lead his little brothers to freedom when he couldn’t remember a promise made hours before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hmmed, fingertips tracing his ribs. “Have other things changed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were so light, just the most gentle of questions, like the answer wasn’t going to tear them apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shaak.” He couldn’t lie to her again, not like this. Colt pressed a kiss between her montrals. “We’re leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His emotions were too raw to brace himself for whatever would come next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rancor?” Shaak looked up at him. She was so beautiful, Colt couldn’t help but gently trace the curve of her markings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “All of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure he could breathe until she said something more. Shaak was only watching him, her hand at his side now fisted into the top of his blacks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She might leave. She might climb out of his bed and comm Nala Se. Comm the Jedi and warn them. There were plans in place. Precautions. The plan would move unchanged if she did. Colt had never wanted to believe those plans would be used for Shaak, and he still didn’t want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colt,” she breathed out his name before pressing quick kisses to each of his cheeks. Shaak watched him in disbelief, the shine of tears in her eyes. The next kiss was on his lips, sweet and slow. “Free. You’ll all be free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deserters,” Colt reminded her. He’d rather look her in the eye and call it what it was. “We’ll be deserters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could that be?” She stroked his cheek before combing her nails into his hair. “They refuse to believe you are people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That answer caught him off guard. Colt huffed out a laugh, the first one he could claim in a long time, even if he knew none of this could be called funny. “Unauthorized relocation of mission-critical supplies then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easier to joke than to untangle the painful truth from the layers obscuring it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak’s hands had resumed their soothing path over his chest and shoulders. The touch melted the ache, the tension, he’d been living with since Cody had flashed the battlesign </span>
  <em>
    <span>ready</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him during a mind-numbingly dull holocall about regs changes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is why I have seen so little of you? You have been busy making plans with your brothers?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. The last thing he wanted was for her to believe he didn’t want to be with her. If anything, his feelings had only grown stronger. “There’s so much at stake. I can’t let them down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t.” Shaak smiled, so sweetly, a peek of fangs over her lower lip. “How can I help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir.” The offer meant the galaxy to him. Colt pulled her forehead in to rest against his. “The Jedi…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being a Jedi was such a fundamental part of who she was. If supporting his brothers put that at risk, he couldn’t let her take that chance. Simply knowing she wouldn’t try to stop them was a gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Standing with you and your brothers is more true to my beliefs than refusing to stand would ever be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were too much, but Colt needed to know, needed to be sure she wouldn’t regret it. He reached for the hand resting on his side and moved her fingers to rest on his temple. “Please, Shaak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tipped her forehead more firmly against his and reached into his thoughts. To feel that pleased buzz of her mind against his, the rush of warm pride and blossoming hope, drew a rough noise from Colt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t allowed himself the luxury of hope for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt relaxed, eyes closed, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and he dropped anything he’d kept shielded for weeks. Months. Karking </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no secrets left to keep from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colt.” She was breathless, cradling his face in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to regret helping us.” His arms wrapped around her, holding her. Colt wished he could keep her like this, pressed close, mind secure against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not so interesting.” Shaak said it dryly, but he felt the current of amusement at his thought. “I promised I would help.” She shared the image in her mind with him. The two of them inches apart in the training room, Shaak’s blood still racing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There has to be a better way.” His voice, shaded with frustration, still thin with pain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And when we find it?” Her hand resting on his shoulder, fabric warm under her fingers, alive and vital. “We will take it. Until then, we will do our best.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak pressed a smiling kiss on his lips. “I will never regret helping you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words were followed by a swell of something deep and strong and </span>
  <em>
    <span>so karking pure</span>
  </em>
  <span> Colt’s breath caught. “Sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak shifted in his arms to lift her fingers and break the connection but Colt caught her hand, held it in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I’m not supposed to. Promised I wouldn’t.” Colt opened his eyes, watching her as he spoke because he needed to. “But I do. I love you. I have loved you for so long. I can’t keep that from you any longer. Not with what we’re about to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak laughed, no she giggled. So sweetly. Her joy rang through him and Colt felt like he’d never been worn too thin and desperate. “You might have let that emotion slip through on occasion.” Shaak pressed a quick kiss on his lips. “I do love you as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did, and Colt knew it because their connection was all but overflowing with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaak eased her fingers off his temple and Colt sighed, both exhausted and renewed by their linked minds. He relaxed back against the thin pillow and smiled to himself as one of Shaak’s lekku wrapped comfortably around his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t tell you sooner, and I’m sorry.” Colt closed his eyes because they were too heavy to keep open. “I wanted to, but I needed to make sure my brothers were prepared. Were safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We both have our duties.” Shaak fit snugly against his side. “We can never apologize for doing what those duties ask of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should talk about it.” Colt barely got the words out before he yawned. “Talk about the mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow, Colt,” Shaak murmured before combing her nails soothingly through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t sleep yet. Colt caught her free hand in his and bent long fingers into shape. “This, Shaak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What sign is that?” She continued to comb her other hand lightly through his hair, soothing him closer to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means ‘glory,’” he promised. <em>Kote</em>. “It means victory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to hear all about it tomorrow,” Shaak said, pressing the shape of the word against the center of his bare chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Colt nodded, sinking into the thin mattress, body melting under her hands. “Tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek just as Colt slipped off to a peaceful sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to Jac with the secret Ao3 and SheAPunk for talking it through with me and Oriki-Miitad for the "clever cogs" line!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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